American Dreams: The Moth Radio Hour
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This is the Moth Radio Hour. I'm your host, John Good. Experts say that we all have several dreams over the course of a night's sleep. Dreams that we may or may not remember, but what about the dreams that keep us up at night? The ones we create while awake. Dreams of hitting the game-winning shot, of landing that job you've wanted since you were 10, or of getting that DeLorean up to 88 miles per hour and going back to the future. dreams realistic, far-fetched, and beyond our wildest imagination. As we approach the 250th anniversary of a nation built on the dream of a better life, on the promise of taking the tired and dispossessed, yearning to be free, and showing them the path to a golden door, let's hear some stories about the dreams and the dreamers that make America what it is.
First up is a story from a Grand Slam in Birmingham. where we partner with public radio station WBHM in Alabama. Here's Alexis Barton, live at the mall.
They say you never forget your first time. Now, I'm not talking about that type of first time, but that's how I remember entering my very first beauty pageant. No, scholarship pageant. Now, understand, I had never run for anything competitively in my life before. The only thing I'd won was the fourth grade spelling bee. And among my classmates, I was kind of used to coming in second place. And I was nobody's performer. I threw up before every piano recital I ever had for ten years. Straight. But I wanted to know what it felt like to win. And to be honest, I wanted that crown, not just any crown, the Miss Alabama crown. Now, to understand how truly delusional that was, remember what I said about throwing up before piano recitals?
But a friend who supported my delusions suggested that before I enter the Miss Alabama pageant system, that I do a pageant for practice. And fortunately, there was a local pageant right around the corner. We'll call it the Miss Jefferson County Legacy Jamboree Pageant. Some of you know what I'm talking about. I dashed off my application, mailed it in, and they called. We'd love to talk to you. And so I ran down to the Five Point South Library and had a little interview with the pageant committee, and they accepted me. That was a piece of cake, I thought. She win. Till I got down to the local dance studio for the first of many pageant practices coordinated by a local choreographer. And I sized up my competition, and I realized, Lex, you in danger, girl.
Because they were prepared. They were talented, these other young ladies. They were leggy. They were confident. One of them had performed on a cruise ship as a singer. And here I was, a tall, awkward, ugly duckling, Looks, eight on a good day. Dance, negative three. But if anything, I'm not a quitter, so I needed a graceful exit, right? And I hadn't told my parents yet that I'd signed myself and their credit cards up for this opportunity. So when I told them, I was shocked because they were all in. My dad turned into a madman, literally. He turned into Ron Draper. He sold every ad that I needed for the pageant program, and he wrote every line of copy. My mom, Miranda Priestley, had nothing on her because she prepared my wardrobe like I was going to the Ebony Fashion Fair or, for those of you who are younger, Rush Top.
She even enlisted my aunt to design and put together my opening number outfit, a crimson organza jumpsuit with a big bow because southern girls love bows. And when the big night came, I whirled into the theater, and I marched up to the microphone, kind of like this one, and I said, my name is Alexis Barton, and I'm a junior majoring in English at UAB, and my motto is, it's not what you're called, it's what you answer to. And they bought it. Just like y'all did. And then, I was, Dancing to the edge of the stage in my fitness wear and holding my eight count. Like my life depended on it. Because I didn't know what an eight count was before a pageant. And then I was in my little tweed suit chewing up the scenery for my dramatic monologue because I was not going to perform on the piano.
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